


So Hold Me, My Best Friend

by DaughterofElros



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Feelings, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, ethical non-monogamy, polycule, vague kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:01:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofElros/pseuds/DaughterofElros
Summary: The 2020 Iowa Caucuses are stressful. Jon is definitely stressed. Tommy and Lovett have some ideas of how to channel their tension.
Relationships: Emily Black Favreau/Jon Favreau, Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett, Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett/Tommy Vietor, Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor, Jon Lovett/Tommy Vietor, Ronan Farrow/Jon Lovett
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	So Hold Me, My Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a way for me to process my frustrations about the delayed results from the Iowa Caucuses, and tied in to a fic I'm already working on in which our beloved podcast hosts figure out that they're all already kind of in love with each other, and kind of into each other in a physical sense as well. They're largely helped along in their realization by their spouses/spouses to be, and they gradually figure out how to live an ethically non-monogamous poly life with a very kitchen-table style polycule.
> 
> That fic is very far from finished, but this one (which was supposed to be maybe 1500 words and is now closer to 10K) is ostensibly a stop on that journey that takes place shortly after they've physically gotten together for the first time, but early on in the process of navigating the added relationship dynamics. Tommy and Favs have had a little time together before Lovett gets involved too, so that piece of the dynamic is very very new for them at the point this takes place.

Jon is keyed up, anxious. They all are— they’ve been on their phones, on the hellscape that is Twitter, he’s been trying to stay positive, keep things tethered to sanity, but it’s hard. It feels productive to snap back at every conspiracy theory and histrionic bit of punditry, because yes, this is a debacle, but counting votes when there’s a paper trail is obviously not a constitutional crisis that undermines the validity of all elections forever, you absolute fucking morons. It’s not productive, but the temptation is there. Boy, is it there.

They’re all trying not to do it, settle for calling out the stupidest tweets to whoever is in the room at the moment, skewering the arguments out loud amongst themselves so they don’t feed the trolls. But it’s wearing on Jon. He’s antsy and anxious, has bitten his lip so often that he’s lost count of how many times. He’ll realize his foot is tapping, setting his knee bouncing, force it to be still, and realize sometime later that he’s doing it again, but has no idea how long he’s been going. Lovett is staring longingly at the sad bags of vending machine snacks someone laid out on the table and drinking water to distract himself, bemoaning the general lack of Culver’s in his life at this particular moment, Dan is pacing and talking on his phone, and Tommy is glaring into his phone, a flush of irritation pinking his cheeks.

This is a shit show, but he’s far more irritated with pundits and twitter than he is with the fact that the results aren’t in yet. Lovett has been making a point to share the funny tweets with them, trying to keep the tone a little lighter for the rest of the Crooked Media staff who are there with them. That’s good. Jon certainly isn’t in a solid enough headspace to think of other people. 

He’s stressed, coiling tighter and tighter, and he feels like he’s going to snap on someone at any minute. He doesn’t want to. He’s never liked feeling like this, but he tries to think more about his impact on other people these days. So when Tommy touches his elbow and nods toward the doorway, inviting a brief escape, he follows without comment.

Tommy doesn’t flip on the lights, but out of sight of everyone else, he reaches up, threads his hand through Jon’s hair and tightens his grip until the slow, inexorable tug of it sends delicious shivers throughout his body, translating the tension into something he wants, instead of something he wants to get away from.

“Tommy...” he whispers, brain already fuzzy around the edges, wanting, but more than that, appreciating. 

“Shhh....” Tommy whispers back, pressing close enough that his nose skims along Jon’s throat, not touching him, but near enough that Jon can feel the it anyway, the phantom touch a sensation in its own right. He breathes in, smells his own cologne, his deodorant mingling with Tommy’s spicier cologne and shampoo. It makes his mind fizz further, but it centers his body, sends the anxiety and poisonous tension bleeding away.

He arches his neck toward Tommy, breathes in more of the scent of him, exhilarating in its familiarity. Tommy doesn’t relax his grip, which means that the tugging pressure at his scalp goes deeper with Jon’s own motion, and he whispers out a moan, leans into it again, moving slowly to draw out the sensation. Tommy’s grip eases and tightens again, the fingertips of his right hand just barely bracing against Jon’s hip.

They stay like that for what feels like ages, crowded close together, barely moving, barely touching, just breathing each other in, an intimacy explored in inches. And it is intimate. He never would have imagined that not kissing someone, not trailing his hands across their body, not pulling off their clothes, or any of the rest of it could feel as intimate as sex, could feel this erotic, but holy fuck is this intense.

Tommy breath ghosts against his jawline, his own calculated exhalation traces along Tommy’s throat as Tommy leans his head back to welcome the sensation. He can see Tommy’s adam’s apple move as he swallows, hear the indrawn breath and the reflexive way Tommy’s hand tightens in his own hair, making him breathless in turn. His arousal builds, he gets harder with each passing minute but he isn’t trying to do anything about it. By the time Tommy brings his thumb up to brush it along Jon’s bottom lip, the intensity of even that light touch makes him want to cry out. He holds the sound in though, his eyes locked with Tommy’s blown wide in the darkness.

He hasn’t been keeping track of how long they’ve been gone, how long he and Tommy had spent in here, seducing each other with movements as slow and constrained as swimming in molasses, savoring each tiny shift between them. It’s what he needs, what they both do, and he’s managed not to think about anything else for several minutes at least. Miraculously they’ve shut the world out, focused only on the distance between their bodies, the heat of each other’s skin, Tommy’s fingers tugging at his hair.

Then there’s the sound of a throat clearing from the entry to the main room of the suite, and they both freeze. Shock courses like a sharp pain through every muscle in his body.

Jon feels panic rise in his throat— and subside again once he realizes that it’s Lovett standing there, the Des Moines city lights filtering in through the gauzy curtain, casting gossamer shadows on his face.

“Figured I should check on you,” Lovett says softly. He shrugs then. “Actually, Ronan suggested it, and I concurred.” He hesitates a moment, makes like he’s going to back away. “I uh... sent the others out for a few minutes. I mean, Dan is still on the phone, but it’s with Howli now, so he’s good. I got everyone else to go out on a snack run. And I know, you’re thinking did you really send everyone on a snack run!?, to which I respond, ‘Never underestimate the combined powers of junk food, and my ability to complain until people bring me things I like.’ So anyway, you can go back to...what you were doing. I’ll run interference.” He turns to go,his gaze lingering.

Jon smiles and holds his hand out to Lovett though, inviting him closer. Lovett hesitates in the entryway, then changes course to pad across the pale carpet toward them. He takes Jon’s hand hesitantly, and Jon draws him in. He doesn’t unloop his right arm from around Tommy’s waist, just coaxes Lovett in until he’s practically part of the embrace.

“Never underestimate you,” Jon tells him, half promise, half affirmation. He presses a kiss to Lovett’s palm, the part at the base of his thumb. He thinks it’s there’s something in some set of beliefs about that part of the body being connected to sensuality or love or something, but he’s not thinking much about symbolism in the moment, just what feels right. And it is right. He sees it immediately in the way that some of the tension Lovett always carries drops from his shoulders, in the soft smile that comes to Lovett’s lips.

In that moment, he also senses that the right thing to do is to bring his hand up to brush Lovett’s cheek, use a knuckle under Lovett’s chin to guide his face up so Jon can lean in and kiss those soft lips. It’s a gentle kiss, sweet and honest. I see you, Jon is trying to say. I love you. I want you. This is all so new that he’s not sure Lovett believes it yet. He can barely believe it himself. He pulls back when the kiss is over, but just enough to break contact, not enough to put any real distance between them. It’s the right thing to do again, because Lovett blinks hazily, adjusting. There’s a second where Jon can practically see the wheels in his head turning, and then he leans in, chasing the contact again, angling his mouth up to Jon’s.

This kiss is honest too- deeper, a little dirtier, a lot less chaste. Lovett’s mouth moves under his, both of them giving themselves over to this, letting it unfold. They don’t battle for dominance, or even take control in turns. Lovett gives him control, and the he cedes it back, an unbroken dance that lasts as long as either of them can draw enough breath. He’s hyper aware of every sensation- the way Lovett’s hand grips at his t-shirt, the way he uses Jon to steady his balance as he presses closer, and Jon is into it. That kiss becomes his whole world; the only other thing that breaks through is the knowledge that he still has his arm wrapped around Tommy’s waist, Tommy’s hand still rests groundingly on his shoulder, and that just makes this better.

When they do finally break apart again, both a little breathless, Tommy is right there watching.

“That’s... wow.” His eyes are wide, and Jon is attuned to his expressions enough by now to know that this is how Tommy looks when he wants something. “Really hot,” he affirms. 

“Yeah?” Lovett asks, somewhere between preening and needing reassurance. 

“Yeah,” Tommy confirms. “Come here.”

And Lovett goes. Not far- he’s still touching Jon. He really just angles himself so he’s looking at Tommy more, and when Tommy kisses him he makes this little noise in his throat that goes straight to Jon’s dick. Watching Tommy kiss Lovett- the way Tommy leans down, the way Lovett leans into him, the movement of their lips, the split-second glimpse of their tongues tangling together in the dim light, Jon thinks about what it would be like to really give Lovett the attention he deserves, the appreciation he often shies away from reflexively, that Ronan is usually the only person he accepts it from. The thought of what it would be like if he and Tommy just had a night to take their time with him, both of them together showing Lovett how much they appreciate him, how much they value him, how beautiful they think he is...

Because they’ve never talked about it outright, and maybe they should, but there’s no question that Tommy thinks he’s incredible too, with the reverent way he’s holding him right now, the way he’s tilted Lovett’s head back and is kissing him breathless. Lovett talks a lot about how unfairly hot Jon and Tommy are, but he never gives himself enough credit. Jon imagines that it could be a very pleasurable experience to address that.   
There’s not time for any of that now, of course. Not with Dan in the other room, and several other staff members coming back in just a few minutes. But as Tommy and Lovett break apart, he has to agree.

“I can confirm. Definitely hot,” he says. His throat is dry as he swallows because he’s been watching them open-mouthed, too captivated to move.

“Oh yeah? Like what you see, Big Boy?” Lovett says suggestively.

“Lovett...” Jon starts to groan, because honestly, he does not need to be called “Big Boy,” especially not when he can actually hear Lovett capitalizing the words. 

(Unless he’s under oath, he’s not going to admit that he also feels a little thrill at the idea of Lovett appreciating the size of his dick, no matter how ridiculous he is about it. There’s some programming he just hasn’t escaped.)

His token protest is cut off abruptly by Lovett putting his hand on Jon’s dick. Not even firmly and commandingly, either, giving him the pressure or friction that would let him chase release. No, Lovett touches him lightly, enough for Jon to feel it and go still in the hopes he’ll get more. He’s pinned against the wall as Lovett traces his erection, no words left in his mind and no earthly idea what he had intended to say.

“Because I have to say,” Lovett continues conversationally, “that I like what I see. Tommy, what are your thoughts about how Jon looks right now?” Lovett is teasing him, edging into using his punditry voice, and Jon should hate that, but he’s into it instead and going to have to unpack that later. 

Tommy looks at him with an expression that can only be described as hungry, which makes Jon want in a way he isn’t even equipped to describe. He’s only felt an intensity like this with a handful of people in his life. He’s married to one of them, and that was one of the best decisions of his life. Saying yes to this is quickly ranking among the top decisions of his life as well.

“I think he looks fucking amazing,” Tommy says. 

“Mmmmm. He does,” Lovett muses. “I might even be inclined to say ‘delicious’.” He brushes his fingers over the most sensitive part of Jon’s dick. “What would you say, Tommy?”

“I’d say I haven’t tasted him yet tonight,” Tommy replies. “And that I want to.” His eyes are burning into Jon’s soul. Jon feels his heart give an extra beat at that.

“Yes, please.” He whispers, throat still dry.

“Yes, please.” Lovett echoes, his inflection just enough different that it’s an endorsement of Jon’s own plea.

Tommy kisses him so tenderly that he feels like he might melt. They objectively don’t have much time, but Tommy doesn’t rush. If anything, he slows things down, meeting Jon’s hammering pulse with the slow, sure pressure of his mouth. As Tommy kisses him, the world shrinks down again to just this miniscule bubble of space- the wall behind him, the men touching him. Tommy centers him, sets him back on his axis and then sets his world into a controlled spin. He feels like he’s holding on for dear life, one hand on Tommy’s shoulder, the other gripping Lovett’s waist.

While he’s distracted by the perfection of Tommy’s tongue sliding against his bottom lip, the slide of their tongues together, he realizes that Lovett has taken the initiative to undo the button of his jeans and is easing the zipper down, knuckles brushing Jon’s hard-on. Then Lovett’s hand is on him, freeing him from his boxer briefs, and he’s practically floating, suspended between these alternating points of pleasure. His brain is too overloaded to take charge of anything, so he just sort of floats in the sensations, responding enthusiastically and affirmatively, letting them both know how into this he is. 

He’s lost in the pleasure, well on his way to a slowly building orgasm when Lovett’s hand disappears, replaced with the slick, wet heat of his mouth and Jon cries out at the intensity of it, Tommy swallowing down his muffled moan. Neither one of them miss a beat, both driving him toward an orgasm he wasn’t even anticipating a few minutes ago, but which is now all but inevitable. Tommy’s hand is back in his hair, tightening his grip just enough for him to feel it through his haze of arousal. The sensation makes him arch forward, pushing him further into Lovett’s mouth in the same motion. Instead of pinning his hips back against the wall, Lovett takes it, the head of Jon’s cock reaching the back of his throat, which only becomes more incredible when Lovett swallows around him. He’s on the verge or orgasm, and it doesn’t matter that he’s gotten there this quickly, because it feels that good.

His left hand has nowhere to go, flailing embarrassingly with the pleasure he’s being subjected to, and lands awkwardly in Lovett’s hair. That seems like a good enough place and he plans to just leave it there, until Lovett’s movement brings him in contact with Tommy’s hand. Their fingers tangle together, sliding through the softness of Lovett’s curls as Jon makes the hazy realization that Tommy has been encouraging Lovett’s blowjob, petting his hair in non-verbal praise for taking Jon’s cock so well, for taking Jon apart with his mouth.  
  
Jon forces himself to turn away from Tommy’s kiss for a moment so he can see this, and he’s glad he does. The sight of his cock disappearing into Lovett’s mouth, both of their fingers threaded through Lovett’s hair, the split-second realization that Lovett’s hand is in his own lap, stroking himself through this blowjob as well... it’s enough to send him right to the edge and then tumble over. Tommy kisses him again, swallowing down the debauched sounds he’s making, carrying him through as he comes. He taps his fingers to try to warn Lovett, but Lovett doesn’t pull all the way back, tongue flicking at his slit instead, lapping away the flood of pre-come there, and swallowing impressively.

When Jon comes back to himself, they’re both breathing hard, his heart is pounding, and Lovett’s hand is covered with his own ejaculatory emissions. Tommy looks incredibly pleased with both of them, which makes Jon realize how debauched they both must look- Jon himself has to appear just as wrecked as Lovett does- hair tousled, lips swollen and spit-slicked, cheeks flushed.

Tommy combs his fingers through each of their hair in turn, helps Lovett stand, and slips away to the bathroom to get a washcloth. Jon, feeling satiated and somewhat boneless, coaxes Lovett in for a soft kiss. He’s intrigued by the taste of himself on Lovett’s tongue, feels a contented, pleased warmth coil through him. Lovett leans into it, lets their bodies press together. Jon finds himself wanting more than the kiss though, wants to feel Lovett’s skin under his lips, kiss the hinge of his jaw and pulse-point in his neck where he can feel Lovett’s heartbeat. Lovett leans into that too, but eventually his soft murmurs becomes intelligible words.

“Tommy hasn’t...” he says, which makes Jon focus. Lovett is right. They’ve both gotten off, but Tommy hasn’t. 

“Right.” Jon pushes himself forward from the wall that he’s been bracing against. “We should fix that.”

Tommy is in the bathroom, folding one damp washcloth and running another under water warm enough that a faint wisp of steam is visible. He blinks when they both appear in the doorway, but hands the washcloth to Lovett, who uses it to clean his hand and tosses it back in the sink.

“Lovett pointed out that you haven’t gotten off yet.” Jon moves past him to look over his shoulder and meet his gaze in the mirror.

“And that you might want to, especially after helping us both out,” Lovett puts in, sidling your on Tommy’s near side.

“I mean, yeah, but... time and all, you know?” Tommy shrugs, and it reminds Jon of all the times he’s seen Tommy set aside his own desires to serve the greater good— sleepless nights, calm reassurances, long hours, making sure that something will get done, even if he doesn’t get every shred of credit he deserves. Tommy can be incredibly selfless at times.

Lovett catches his eye. They’re in agreement. No way is Tommy getting left out of this, holding back despite wanting more. Lovett turns, takes the three steps to close the bathroom door. The lock makes a heavy, decisive click as he flips it, tests the handle.

“There’s time, if you want it.” He announces.

“There definitely time,” Jon murmurs, angling himself to brush a kiss across Tommy’s lips. Tommy kisses him back.

“Plenty of time,” Lovett concurs, going up on his tiptoes to kiss Tommy as in turn.

“I mean sure, with more time, there’s so much we could do.” Jon traces his lips just above the collar of Tommy’s shirt, pressing his words into Tommy’s skin like kisses, enjoying the way that Tommy practically swoons back into him, undone by the whisper-soft touch. Lovett is sliding his hand up under Tommy’s shirt, tracing his fingertips across Tommy’s abs, teasing along his waistband. 

“Could get you out of these clothes, strip you naked and spread you out on the bed in front of us,” Jon continues. “My room has a King. You’d look so good in the middle of it, Lovett on one side of you, me on the other, just like this.”He glances up, meets Tommy’s eyes in the mirror. “We could trade off, first Lovett going down on you, then me, then Lovett again.”

“Who doesn’t like a good blow job?” Lovett puts in helpfully. “I know I do.”

“You saw how much Lovett likes blowjobs, likes giving them...” Tommy nods his acknowledgment at that.

“Like getting them too,” Lovett says as an aside, because it might actually be impossible for him to let Jon speak for thirty seconds uninterrupted by commentary. Tommy bites his lip.

“I want to be good at giving them too,” Tommy confesses in a rush. Which, not what Jon has been expecting, but he’s into it. “I want to practice until I’m as good at them as Lovett is. Not just good because of enthusiasm, but because I know what I’m doing. I have this fantasy where...where you both help me get better at it, because I...is it okay to say this?” He’s leaning back into both of them now, braced against them, and he’s blushing furiously with his fingers interlocking nervously, but he’s still meeting their gazes in the mirror.

“Hell yes. I mean, there are higher bars to aspire to than my skill level, but otherwise, hell yes,” Lovett says immediately. 

“Very much okay,” Jon affirms, settling his other hand on Tommy’s hip for reassurance.

“Alright. Yeah, then... this fantasy, where you both help me get better at...sucking, um, cock,”

He stumbles a little bit over those words, which Jon thinks is adorable. He presses another feather-light kiss to the top of Tommy’s shoulder, smiling into the fabric of his t-shirt at the same moment that he catches Lovett’s amused smirk in the mirror.

“...and you, um... you have me give you each a blowjob while you give me pointers on technique, like in a gym. And then we do it again, and again, until I’m good at it.”

“Tommy, is that how you learned to go down on women?” Jon asks.

Tommy can’t blush any harder, so he just says,

“...yes?” They can both see how much this conversation is turning him on. And of course that’s how Tommy got so famously good with his mouth- practice and perseverance and asking for feedback. Jon’s heart clenches with fondness. He places a feather-light kiss on the back of Tommy’s neck, right at the top of his spine, which he knows Tommy likes. 

Meanwhile, Lovett teases him, dipping his fingers below Tommy’s waistband, so close to where he’s still hard in his pants-probably achingly so.

“I’m into it,” Lovett announces. “Practice makes perfect. I like it. Which I why I think you should probably get even more practice.” His hand is fully down Tommy’s pants now, and even through there’s no room for Lovett to move or even fully grip his cock, the pressure must feel amazing because Tommy’s eyes drift closed in pleasure and his hips buck forward, chasing even more sensation. Lovett is using some version of his stage voice, something that Jon very quickly comes to think of as his sex voice. 

“I think we should find you a dildo, watch you rehearse on that first, then let you hone your skills on each of us. Have you show us how eager you are, how good you can be with what you learn, watch you put your skills to use on your own, and then while we hold it and control it so you get as much practice as possible.” Lovett has an incredible ability to read a situation, go places that Jon would never have imagined. “What do you think Jon? How good do you think Tommy would look on his knees, learning how to suck a silicone cock, trying to be so good that he could put his mouth on us next, have our cocks down his throat instead?”

This is...going in a kinkier direction that he was envisioning, but he honestly shouldn’t be surprised. He aware that Lovett knows way more about anything kinky or sex-related than he himself does, and he’s already had some clues that Tommy is both more knowledgeable and more interested than one might assume. By all indications- his breathing, how wide his eyes are, the color in his cheeks, Tommy is into this. And the images that Lovett’s words bring to his mind are undeniably incredible. It sounds a little humiliating, and Jon doesn’t get off on that. But when he thinks about it in terms of Tommy being good for them, Tommy wanting the feedback of doing something with dedication and excellence... he feels a flush go through him. That he’s definitely into. He’s also kind of in awe of Lovett’s ability to understand that this- the kinkier tone, the subtle dominance mixed with praise is something Tommy would want. Or, if Tommy’s subtle yet intensely enthusiastic reactions are anything to go by...maybe even need.

“I think he’d be amazing,” Jon says truthfully. “I think Tommy is always amazing at everything he puts his mind to, and he’s be so good at this too. I bet he’d be so good that he’d eventually be able to take both of us at once.”

Tommy actually moans at that and twists toward Jon to kiss him. The angle is awkward, but it’s amazing too, because he can see how much Tommy strains to reach him, can watch himself kiss Tommy in the mirror out of the corner of his eye, can watch the tendons stand out in Tommy’s neck. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Lovett says, sounding impressed. “We should definitely do that.”

“Yes, please,” Tommy gasps before Jon claims his mouth again. 

He’s not the greatest multi-tasker, but he think he does well enough when he manages to thumb open the button on Tommy’s jeans and drag his zipper down, giving Lovett room to adjust his grip, room to wrap his hand around Tommy and stroke. Tommy for his part kisses Jon more desperately.

There’s no sign of the restraint that Tommy had guided them both through earlier- every bit of that intensity is channeled now into the desperate, filthy kiss between them; the slick slide of Tommy’s tongue against his, the pressure of Tommy’s mouth, the scrape of Tommy’s teeth against his bottom lip and the sharp little thrill of pain when Tommy nips his lip a moment later. He could get drunk on this kiss, lightheaded and loose-limbed and giddy like Emily after slightly too much wine. Like Lovett after a couple vodka sodas- half of one if he’s been doing his version of intermittent fasting.

That nip reminds him that Tommy likes biting, doles it out sometimes because he wants it done to him... so Jon obliges, breaking away from Tommy’s lips to press kisses to the sensitive points under his jaw and along his throat, letting his teeth scrape, even clamping down and worrying Tommy’s flesh between his teeth, careful not to break the skin or leave a mark. It’s enough though, if the sounds that Tommy makes are any indication, and by the desperate way he clutches at Jon’s arm. He’s too loud, despite trying to contain himself, so Lovett has to stop jerking him off to put his thumb against Tommy’s lips, reminding him to keep it down.   
Lovett’s thumb is slick with precome, and they can both tell the exact moment that Tommy tastes himself on Lovett’s skin, because he gasps and sucks Lovett’s thumb into his mouth, chasing more of the taste, his cheeks hollowing slightly. Lovett’s eyelids flutter at that and he bites his own lip in reaction, the parallel between this body part and a dick obscenely, gloriously apparent. 

Even though it’s too soon after coming for him to get fully hard again, Jon’s dick twitches when Lovett uses the pressure of his thumb to drag Tommy’s mouth open, the pad of his thumb resting partway on Tommy lip and partway on the tip of his tongue, Tommy completely obedient and fixed on doing exactly what Lovett directs him to do. It’s erotic and obscene and fucking reverent all at once. 

Lovett kisses him then, which is brilliant because it gives Jon the chance to watch, but also to rearrange Tommy’s underwear so that the band is tugged down below his balls, putting his very erect cock on display. Because Lovett is much better at multi-tasking, he gets what Jon is doing, and wraps his hand back around Tommy’s erection, pumping firmly and bringing him right up to the edge.Tommy squirms, wanting that last little bit of pressure and friction. Jon lowers his lips to Tommy’s neck again, can tell from glances in the mirror that Lovett has done the same. A visible shiver of pleasure runs through Tommy’s entire body. Jon can see the goosebumps.

“Vampires,” Tommy gasps, and they both laugh softy, breath huffing across sensitive skin and making him shiver again.

“Not vampires,” Lovett asserts. “We all still very much appear in this mirror. Just look at the picture we make.” He meets Tommy’s gaze in that mirror then, and when he has Tommy’s attention, deliberately swipes his thumb across the head of Tommy’s cock, slicked with pre-come. Jon drops his hand lower to caress Tommy’s balls, which are drawn tight on the verge of orgasm. 

“Look in the mirror, Tommy,” Lovett instructs. “Keep watching. Don’t close your eyes until we make you come.” Tommy obeys, fighting his obvious instinct to close his eyes and lose himself in riding out his orgasm. That’s a trip— knowing that Tommy is doing it because Lovett told him to. Because he’s into the command, sure, but mostly because he’s being obedient, being good, and getting off on doing so. Jon is understanding part of him in a way he never has before.

It’s incredibly erotic, watching everything reflected back at them— Lovett’s movements, the way that Tommy’s cock disappears and emerges as Lovett pumps his fist, the way that Tommy shudders when Jon draws his thumb teasingly between his balls, lets his fingertips press against the sensitive spot behind them, the way Tommy’s eyes are wide, his face flushed, lips pink.

“Oh God,” he gasps quietly, trying to keep his voice down. His hands clench at his thighs, holding on to nothing but air.

Lovett is whispering encouragements in Tommy’s ear, about how he’s so good, looks so good, is so good for them. Jon himself is just spellbound, gaze locked with Tommy’s in the reflection.

“I’m close…so close,” Tommy is whispering. “Don’t stop. God, don’t stop… fuck! Fuuuuuck!” He keens the last expletive in a frantic hiss, still aware of the need for silence even as he comes messily over both of their hands and even some of the countertop. Jon ends up supporting most of his weight as his knees go unsteady in the grip of his orgasm. 

It only takes Tommy a few seconds to steady himself though, the slightest hint of sweat on his brow. He leans into Jon on purpose this time, seeking a lush, lingering kiss, then turning to Lovett for the same. Jon notices that he kisses them differently, getting different things from them. When Tommy kisses him, he’s asking for the kiss, but sort of still directing it, subtly letting Jon know what he wants. When he kisses Lovett this time, he doesn’t try to do that— he lets Lovett lead, gives himself over to however Lovett directs him, because Lovett seems to instinctually know what’s right in the moment. Jon has never realized that Lovett was so good at directing things in bed, and the reassessment that knowledge is requiring is kind of hot.

“That was…wow,” is pretty much all Tommy can muster for words when they break apart.

“Wow is right,” Lovett observes, surveying the counter top now splashed with Tommy’s cum. They’re all in a state of deshabille- pants still undone, shirts askew, hair rumpled, eyes bright and lips swollen from kissing and more. They’re a mess, and Jon kind of loves it. But they’re going to have to fix themselves before they go back into the main room, because there’s really no explanation for three men walking out of a locked bathroom looking the way they do that isn’t...exactly what they’ve been doing. And maybe (definitely) it was stupid and rash, but they’d all needed it, so he counts this as a good thing. 

As they’re cleaning up together though, Jon just keeps thinking about later on that night, and identifying what he wants.

“I think I was serious,” he says, breaking the silence they’ve lapsed into as he wipes down the counter. “About my hotel room, and the fact that I have a king size bed, and… I don’t know. There’s probably not time or energy for any of the things we talked about, you know, just now...but…I kind of don’t want to spend the night alone. Do you guys maybe want to… stay over?” he trails off, frustratingly unsure of how to express himself here. It’s doubly frustrating, because he lives for words, but words feel so inadequate here. How this feels like more than sex, how he wants it to keep on having it be more. That the idea of being in bed with both of them without having sex is also exhilarating, and something he wants with an intensity that scares him a little.

“Sure,” Tommy says though. “I’ll come.”

“I thought that’s what we just did.” The quip is out before he can stop himself.

“Hey now!” Lovett says fiercely. “We’ve talked about this. I’m the funny one, I get to make the jokes. You two already get to be the hot ones. No horning in on my territory.”

“Lovett,” Tommy says seriously, “If nothing else, I hope that what we just did here brings it home to you that you are also one of the hot ones.”

“Sure, sure.” Lovett brushes the sentiment away. “You say that, but no shirts came off, so-”

“Lovett!” Tommy exclaims, leaning down to kiss him and shut him up. “One of the hot ones, okay?”

“Definitely hot,” Jon affirms, brushing a kiss across Lovett’s lips in turn.

“I…” Lovett hesitates, but at least doesn’t argue with their assessment. “I’ll be there. If I don’t end up jumping out one of these windows in a twitter-induced rage between now and then, I’ll be there.” 

Tommy groans. “Don’t remind me. Politically, this night is a disaster.”

“Debacle might be a kind word,” Jon agrees as he opens the door. “Personally though, I’m finding a silver lining.”

Dan is still on the phone with Howli, no results have been posted in since they stepped away, and the rest of the staff aren’t back from their junk food run by the time they file into the living room part of the Crooked hotel suite again. Dan waves, but otherwise doesn’t say anything, and the rest of the staff come piling through the door with a selection of convenience-store goodies a few minutes later. Gideon glances at Tommy with a strange expression at one point, but never lets on why, and everyone falls back into ranting about all of the really frustrating things about this particular caucus process.

By the time everyone breaks up, accepts that there aren’t going to be results, and watches all of the “Hey, it’s kind of like a victory!” speeches, then trickle back to their respective rooms, it’s after 2 A.M. They have to be up by nine to pack, eat, and check out, and all Jon wants in the world is to slide into bed and sleep. He just wants to sleep beside someone. Or ideally more than one someone. He misses Emily, misses his own bed, but if he’s going to have to endure the hotel bed, he likes the idea of Tommy and Lovett there with him. He’d understand if they decided they were too tired, or aren’t in the mood for that kind of thing after all, but it’s what he wants, and he’s trying to be better about identifying what he wants. Right as he’s thinking that he should just go to bed by himself anyway, there’s a knock on the adjoining room door, and he unlocks it to find Tommy there, wearing pajamas and smelling like toothpaste.

“Hey,” Tommy says, and Jon can’t think of anything to say except,

“Hey.”

Mercifully, Tommy takes the lead, tugs Jon in by his pajama shirt, and kisses him sweetly. Jon returns it, smiling into the kiss.

“I like that we can do this now,” Tommy says simply.

“I…yeah.” Jon heaves a sigh. Exhaustion makes him reflective. “Sometimes, I think about all the time that we kind of wasted, not figuring this all out before.” He’s thinking about it right now, wondering about all the times, the missed opportunities, if they could have had some of this so much earlier. Tommy perched on the foot of the bed.

“I’ve thought about it too, about what oblivious idiots we were. Except then I think that if we had, you wouldn’t have found Emily, I wouldn’t have found Hannah, we might have totally fucked it up and never had this. We probably wouldn’t have Crooked, and all the people who matter to us there…we probably wouldn’t get to be with Lovett either. We wouldn’t even have our dogs. I mean, if we had gotten our shit together early enough to realize we were into each other, do you really think we’d have gotten to the point of realizing it was feelings, and not just sex?”

“Yeah, I guess doing it the other way around was better in the long run,” Jon laughs as he joins Tommy on the foot of the bed.

“Exactly,” Tommy agrees. “It’s enough of a mindfuck to realize that we can have this— caring about each other, and the physical stuff too, while still having everything else that matters. Lovett being a part of it all, our other partners. I can’t imagine that the idiots we were a decade ago wouldn’t have fucked this up irreparably. People other than Hanna, Emily, Ronan...they might not have been on board with any of it. I mean...I know now that this can be a thing, that our wives support it, that Ronan actually encouraged Lovett to come find us tonight...but I don’t think I would have been ready to handle enough of it earlier on in my life. It still seems impossible to believe sometimes. ” Hesitantly, Tommy reaches down and laces his fingers with Jon’s. It’s one of the things that still so new that it’s sometimes jarring- to be able to express themselves with each other this way, even just in private. “Speaking of Lovett, is he still coming?”

Jon shrugs, smiles ruefully.

“I hope so? I slipped him my room key, so…”

At that moment, there’s the electronic whirring of a key card in the lock, and the hallway door swings open. Lovett, wearing a substantially similar sleep pants-and-t-shirt ensemble, with the addition of a pair of flip flops slips through the door.

“I’m hoping you’re actually serious about the sleeping part of sleeping together, because I’m completely fucking tanked,” he announces. He looks like a sulking teddy bear.

“Sleep is literally all I’m up for,” Jon agrees, and backs it up by standing up and methodically flipping off all of the lights except for the one right at the bedside while Lovett flops down beside Tommy.

“I talked to Ronan,” Lovett says, which makes sense because it’s only a little after midnight in L.A. “He thinks it’s really cute that we’re having a sleepover.

“So does Hannah,” Tommy puts in.

“You know Emily is into this. She wants to know if she gets to host slumber parties back in L.A. now.” Jon perches beside Lovett too

“That depends entirely on if either one of you hog the covers, and how loud you both snore,” Lovett says haughtily.

“We should send them a picture,” Tommy suggests brightly— which is how there’s group thread started, and a picture shared of the three of them in their pajamas laying on the bed in a hotel in Iowa, Jon and Tommy on either side with Lovett in the middle, all looking exhausted and admittedly kind of adorable. It’s the order they end up in under the duvet as well, shifting until it’s comfortable and they’re all happy with the pillow distribution. Jon reaches across Lovett to rest his hand on Tommy’s hip, they make sure their alarms are set, and turn out the lights.

He’s so tired that he starts to drift toward sleep almost the second it’s dark, but Lovett’s mumbled commentary drags him back closer to wakefulness.

“…and here I was, hoping you each slept in the nude.”

There’s a long stretch of silence until Tommy mumbles, “Don’t sleep naked. Sleep in m’boxers.”

“Same,” Jon mumbles back. Lovett shifts between them, which gives Jon enough lucidity to wonder out loud why, if they all wear boxers to sleep, are they all wearing pajamas right now.

“Because we’re dumb,” Tommy finally decides.

“Or polite,” Jon suggests.

“Probably both,” Tommy agrees. Then a moment later, “So…do any of us care if we just…sleep the way we normally do?”

“I believe I stated my preference already,” Lovett says airily.

“Boxers it is,” Tommy decides. There’s an annoying amount of moving and rustling and jostling the duvet, then the muffled thud of cloth hitting the floor. Halfway through Tommy’s disrobing process, Jon decides that he might as well actually get comfortable too, and it’s not long before Lovett sighs and goes along. Once they’re settled again, Jon has to admit that he likes this much better, the reassuring press of skin on skin, being able to feel the connection between each of them.

He drifts of to sleep on the thought how insanely, illogically lucky he is. 

  
He’s still thinking it the next morning when he wakes up to the muted winter daylight filtering through the curtains, Lovett’s ass snugged right up against his typical morning hard-on, and Tommy doing push-ups on the floor, because of course he’s an overachiever like that.

He watches Tommy for a minute, enjoying the way his muscles muscles flex and move on his slender frame, the way the bright cold winter light plays across his skin.

Lovett starts to stir, so Jon whispers good morning in his ear to help him remember where he is, rubs his arm so he doesn’t startle awake. When Lovett blinks his eyes open, he whispers his advice of watching Tommy finish his morning routine.

“Fuck, he’s gorgeous,” Lovett murmurs appreciatively. “He might do crunches too. Sometimes there are crunches.”

Of course Lovett knows that. He and Tommy were roommates in D.C.

“How did you survive living with this man if he looked this good and did this workout in your living room every morning?” Jon grins as he whispers into Lovett’s ear.

“It was a trial. A burden. But I endured.” Lovett looks back over his shoulder. “And I became very well acquainted with my left hand.”

Jon just has to kiss him then, leaning over to fit their mouths together, pressing Lovett into the pillows, the duvet like a crisp white cloud around them.

“I’m a pretty big fan of your hands,” Jon tells him, resting his chin on Lovett’s shoulder.

“Flatterer.” Lovett nestles back against him, still languid and pliant from sleep, humming contentedly when Jon runs a hand down his arm, tangling their fingers together. Jon would never have taken a bet that Lovett is a ‘morning in bed’ person, but he’s...kind of delighted by it. Lovett for his part nuzzles sleepily against the pillow, his gaze still on Tommy.

“To clarify, flattery will get you pretty much everywhere,” he assures.

“Will it?” Jon says, low and suggestive in Lovett’s ear, savoring his sharply indrawn breath. He slides his hand down Lovett’s torso, gliding over warm skin to brush against his half-hard cock.

“Oh yeah. Definitely there,” Lovett agrees.

“Mmmhmm,” Jon agrees, cupping Lovett through his underwear. From this angle, it’s oddly familiar to jerking himself off. His brain understands the mechanics, and though it’s definitely more awkward to manage, he feels like he’s doing pretty well. He definitely likes the way Lovett is rubbing his ass back against his cock and arching his neck.

“You two are not subtle,” Tommy notes wryly from the floor. “I can hear you.”

“Not trying to be subtle,” Lovett grouses. “We’re trying to ogle you.”

“Oh.” Tommy blushes, and they can both appreciate how much he flushes all over at the overtness of the statement.

“We are ogling you, Vietor,” Jon explains. “Or maybe it would be accurate to say we’re appreciating you. And if you want to come back to bed once your workout there is done, we can appreciate you all over again.”

Tommy pauses at that, very deliberately does one more push-up, and gets to his feet.

“We don’t exactly have much time,” he says, but he’s sliding back under the duvet even as the words leave his mouth. Jon glances at the clock on the bedside table. 

“We have twelve minutes until the alarm goes off. And we can probably be a little late to breakfast,” he reasons. Tommy nods.

“What do you think, Lovett?” Lovett blinks at him.

“I think that Jon has been stroking my dick for the last five minutes, and I’m very hard now, and it would be really nice to kiss somebody soon.” Lovett says, voice gone a little breathy.

“That, I can do,” Tommy promises. He scoots closer until he’s right there in front of Lovett, gives him a smile so tender that it tugs at Jon’s heartstrings, and leans in to kiss him. Jon watches them, trying to match the timing of his strokes to Tommy’s kisses. They’re slow, deep kisses with lots of tongue and lots of teasing, moments where Tommy pulls back for air, but by a margin of barely a centimeter so that one kiss spills endlessly into the next. It’s spellbinding to watch, especially as their bodies draw closer together, limbs tangling as they caress each other. Jon’s knuckles brush Tommy’s cock while he’s stroking Lovett, and he has the brilliant realization that he should get them both out of their boxers so he can get his hand around them both.

It’s that move that eventually breaks their kiss, since they each moan when he starts stroking them both at once, both of them thrusting into his hand together and then pulling him down to kiss each of them in turn. They go on for several minutes like that, trading kisses back and forth between each other, Jon jacking both of them off at once and enjoying the friction against his own erection when Lovett grinds back against him. Somewhere along the way, Lovett has the equally brilliant idea of tugging down Jon’s boxer briefs so that there’s no fabric between any of them, and Jon’s cock is sliding teasingly along the cleft of Lovett’s bare ass with every thrust. When they come, it’s almost one right after the other, each of them holding out until they can’t anymore. Lovett spills first, then Tommy as he feels Lovett’s cock pulsing against his, flooding Jon’s hand with their spend. Jon starts coming before they even finish, which means that Lovett is filthy, marked with all of their come, and utterly fucking delighted with that reality. 

They have to shower, of course, but they have two showers at their disposal because Tommy’s room with its pristinely made bed is still available. Jon lets Lovett use his shower first, because Lovett still has to go back to his own room and pack so they can meet the rest of the team down at breakfast and return the rental cars at the airport before they head through security.

Lovett insists that they strip the filthy sheets from the bed, going on an appalled rant while wrapped in a towel about how that’s just fucking etiquette, and are they just monsters, or animals, and don’t they know that the cleaning staff works hard enough. There’s a tangent about how the housekeeping person is probably names Jupiter, and she probably has enough to do without their rudeness, because…something about…bees? And weredogs, and…space bureaucracy? Jon honestly isn’t sure, but he figures out that Lovett is referencing some horrible movie he’s never heard of when he exhibits confusion and gets roped into watching it on Lovett’s laptop on the flight home. His only consolation is that Lovett also insists that Tommy watch it too, and they can crack up about the dialogue for forever. Jon vows that Lovett does not get to pick the next movie.

They all get down to breakfast at different times, Lovett last of all, but he does still have time to grab some coffee or something and sit down to chat with everyone. None of the Crooked Media staff seem to sense that anything is different, like the fact that their bosses are almost all sleeping together on business trips now, everyone still talking about the caucus debacle and looking to see when results might actually be posted.

It’s easy to get swept up in the chaos all around them, the swirl of events that are their jobs and their mutual passions. But every time he glances over to see Tommy or Lovett, every time he stops to think of Emily and Hannah and Ronan and this unlikely thing they’re building together, he’s practically bowled over by the intensity of his happiness and how amazing it is that they’ve been given a chance to figure this wild, beautiful, impossible thing out.

  
Coda:

Things are good once they get back, until there’s an unexpected turn while they’re reading ads for the last episode that’s going air before New Hampshire. It’s an ad for sleep number beds, and it’s going totally normally until Lovett heads off on a joke that neither Jon nor Tommy- or admittedly probably even Jon himself, knowing him, were expecting.

“I’m just so, so glad to be out of that hotel…’cause you both snore,” he says, which prompts peals of laughter from both of them, as well as wide-eyed looks about how to handle the curveball. You’re supposed to ‘Yes, and…”, so Jon goes there on reflex.

“And we all had to have the same setting…” he trails off, but Lovett picks it up again, deadpan.

“I know. And it’s really annoying, ’cause it’s like… it’s like I can’t- I don’t even… at least each of you have a side of the bed. I’m stuck there, I have to like, crawl out, try not to- you know, you get it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He agrees, smile frozen in place, trying to understand how they got here.

“Stuck in the middle.” Lovett put forward, and that’s the first thing about it that Tommy comments on, his voice layering with Jon’s.

“Oh, we get it.”

“Yeah. Stuck in the middle.”

“There you go. I was waiting for that.” He chuckling, half at Lovett’s audactiy, and half in panic.

It takes all of his effort not to dissolve into unbridled laughter before he makes it to the end of the ad copy. They have to take a break after, and he and Tommy practically drag Lovett away from the mic.

“Lovett! What the hell!?” Jon asks

“Seriously,” Tommy puts in, his consternation a little more evident than Jon’s nervous laughter.

“Okay, listen. Admittedly, I should have checked in with you before I said anything. But I thought it, and then my mouth was saying it, and I was just thinking ‘come on, go along, make it a joke so it’s not awkward and obvious…’ and then I realized that no, this actually is the best thing.”

Tommy’s eyebrows practically shoot off his face. Jon crosses his arms.

“Lovett, can you maybe explain how telling a million and a half of our closest friends and listeners, not to mention our entire office staff that we’re all sleeping together as part of an advertisement on the pod qualifies as a good idea?”

“Not to mention publicly outing two of the three of us, which I distinctly remember you personally lecturing me about the ethics of at least a decade ago.” Tommy definitely seems the most upset about this.

“Yes.” Lovett nods. “You are right, and that was not cool of me, and that’s a sufficient justification as to why we should cut it out and re-record. I promise I didn’t do it on purpose. But…let me at least make the case for letting it stand?”

“Well yeah, obviously you should make the case,” Tommy says. 

“Okay. Have either of you seen Practical Magic?” Both of them look at him blankly. “Sandra Bullock? Nicole Kidman? Aiden Quinn? Stockard Channing? Witches? Any of this ringing a bell? No?” He sighs.

“Okay. There’s these two witches who are sisters, and one of them has a really abusive boyfriend, and when she and her sister are trying to get away from him, he kidnaps them, and they try to dose him with belladonna, and they accidentally kill him. So then they try to bring him back because they don’t want to be murderers, but he turns into an evil zombie thing and they have to kill him again. So anyway, the other witch sister meets this detective who’s investigating the bad guy’s disappearance, and they like each other, but he suspects something hinkey is going on, so he flat-out asks her “Did you kill this guy?” and she doesn’t want to lie to him, so she tells the truth in a way that he’s never believe and says “Oh yeah. A couple of times,” and they live happily ever after. Which I am now realizing is maybe not the most stable basis for a good relationship, but I was young and somehow for a young queer Jewish kid from Rhode Island, clever witches who sold bath products made sense, okay?” He takes a deep breath. “My point is that sometimes, the thing that most obscures the truth is to just tell it, and make it funny. That’s basically what my entire approach to comedy is. And maybe the best way to keep people from asking questions is to make everyone thing they’re in on the joke. And then if someone finds out, it can’t blindside us as much, because we never actually hid it, we just told the truth in a way that seemed too ridiculous to be believed.”

“That…isn’t the strangest rationale I’ve ever heard,” Jon says slowly. It’s actually kind of brilliant, but it depends what Tommy thinks. They both look at Tommy.”

Tommy tilts his head back and forth like he’s debating with himself.

“It’s actually kind of like background checks for security clearance, I guess. Like how if you have something you might want to hide, it’s better to put it out there because a secret can be used to compromise you, but if you’re open about it, you might get humiliated, but it can’t be used to exploit you as an asset.” He sighs. “I also just… don’t want to lie. I don’t want to be out there inviting everyone to comment on how we and the people we love live our lives, but… I don’t want to be hiding and watching everything we say. This is too important to put out there for consumption, but it’s also too important to hide, and cutting it seems too much like hiding. So I guess I say… leave it in.”

Jon nods his affirmation. “I agree,” he says for good measure. Lovett’s earnest expression shifts to a tremulous grin.

“Tommy Vietor,” he says, “I really want to kiss you right now, and I really want to go back time and kick each and every one of us for deciding to design a cool, modern office space where most of the walls are made of glass.”

Tommy laughs, and it makes Jon smile too.

“Well, I think there’s a supply closet somewhere that doesn’t have a glass door,” he jokes. “But how about this instead. Come over for dinner tonight. Hannah and I were going to get something delivered, so we can just make it a bigger order. Both of you, and Emily, and Ronan if he’s back in town.”

“Last night,” Lovett confirms.

“Ronan too, then. And we can eat, and everyone can kiss everyone else as much as they want, and we can also clue everyone who’s part of this little constellation, but doesn’t work at Crooked HQ, into the fact that we’re literally advertising the fact that we all shared a bed in Iowa.”

“Sold,” Lovett says immediately. “Also advertising the fact that you both snore. Because you do.”

“So do you,” Jon reminds him. “And you also kick in your sleep.”

“I don’t seem to remember you complaining!” Lovett challenges. He raises an eyebrow to indicate that he does remember other things that Jon had conveyed.

“I didn’t complain,” Jon tells him. “I’m not now. Just keeping it real for you. I believe I’m on record as very much enjoying all of the noises you made in Iowa.” He holds Lovett’s gaze until Lovett blushes.

“Hey Tommy?” Lovett asks, not looking away, “How soon is dinner?” 

Jon ends having to be the one to look away because he’s laughing . It’s one of the perks of falling in love with your friends, he decides.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, these boys did actually record and air that exact ad. I was listening to Lovett say these things as I was finishing up the morning hotel scene, cackling delightedly to myself, and realized that I had to write the coda as well.


End file.
